Crazy Stalker

Chapter 28 - Just One Follower

WHEN I SEE Natalie in Creative Writing again, the next day, I can't believe my eyes. She had moved her desk back so she's sitting next to Jake. They were chatting together and giggling before I showed up. I plop down and shove my desk back I'm closer to Natalie's right, and the two of them immediately look away from each other. I notice that Jake clears his throat and starts making small talk with the guy behind him.

"Were you guys talking about me?" I ask Natalie. For some reason, I'm suddenly worried that I have a bit of toilet paper stuck on my heel or one of my blouse buttons had popped open.

"Not everything is about you, sweetie," Natalie purrs. "Just so you know, Jake is taking me to Barcade this weekend."

"Oh yeah, Jake Villin and his fake ID," I reply with a roll of my eyes. I like to roll my eyes a lot, or so I'm told. Back in Queens, rolling my eyes was my only defense against our nutty teachers. Now I'm doing it because Natalie's revelation that she's dating Jake has left me speechless and angry. I'm a writer, but I can't put into words how hurt I feel.

Why? Was Jake ever mine, to begin with?

I see Natalie reach over me to stroke Jake's arm. He smiles back at her like they're sharing a secret.

I'm not jealous. I'm not jealous. I'm not jealous.

I tell myself this even though I sit with my arms tightly crossed across my chest while Mr. Kleeman calls attendance.

How dare Natalie agree to go out with Jake? He's my Jake. She would never have spoken to him if I hadn't brought the two of them together.

"He's even shown me some of his short stories," Natalie gushes and stares at the seat behind me. It's like Mr. Kleeman no longer exists on this planet. How can an ordinary English Teacher compare to Jake's rugged, tanned biceps? "He's so talented. His writing is just dee-vine!"

Jake meets my eyes, and I can barely stifle a derisive chuckle. I can't believe it. Jake Villin finally has a fan.

One single fan.

"I think Jake keeps his secrets close to his chest. That's why all his shirts are so tight. He's just bursting with talent," I remark through clenched teeth.

"We talked all night, last night," Natalie whispers to me fifteen minutes later as we exchange flash fiction for critiquing. "Jake says he would love to take me on a motorcycle ride. Can you believe it? I bet you've never been on a motorcycle."

"No, I haven't, and I never want to, thank you."

"Hey, have you and Nick . . .ahem . . .kissed yet? Can you give me some tips?"

Ugh, I want to recoil in horror. I am not going to coach her on how to kiss Jake Villin!

"Sure, a kiss is like . . .like arm wrestling with your tongue. Just be bold about it. Go for it."

"Really?"

"Guys love it when a girl isn't shy. And remember to make it wet and juicy. They love that. Pretend like you're a cat giving him a bath with your mouth."

And I'm trying to sabotage her, as only an experienced skank from Queens knows how. Yes, Natalie, give him a bath with your saliva! Boys love that. I know I'm petty, but I don't know how else to manage my hurt feelings. If I were a guy, this is the part where I would sock her in the jaw and knock out a couple of her coffee-stained teeth.

"Did you learn that with Nick or in a public school in Queens?" Natalie asks with her eyes as wide as dinner plates. It was as though she couldn't believe that vanilla-as-apple pie Nick would teach me such a thing.